“Quo Vadis”

It is as if imperial trumpets broke

Again the silence on War's iron height;

And Caesar's armored legions marched to fight,

While Rome, blood-red upon her mountain-yoke,

Blazed like an awful sunset. At a stroke,

Again I see the living torches light

The horrible revels, and the bloated, white,

Bayed brow of Nero smiling through the smoke:

And here and there a little band of slaves

Among dark ruins; and the form of Paul,

Bearded and gaunt, expounding still the Word:

And towards the North the tottering architraves

Of empire; and, wild-waving over all,

The flaming figure of a Gothic sword.